Devil’s Music

Chapter 365: The Power of Music

Irina Zarishko.

She was a 29-year-old nurse, in her fourth year of work at the Georgia General Hospital. She had been in a relationship with a man two years her senior, whom she had met through an acquaintance two years ago, and they had decided to get married after two years of dating.

Recently, as she was preparing for her marriage, she found herself frequently arguing with her boyfriend, with whom she had never fought before.

Today, after choosing furniture for their new home, she had an argument with her boyfriend who seemed disinterested, which bothered her. After her night shift, taking the opportunity when other staff members had left, she called her boyfriend to make up.

"It's me, honey. I'm sorry for getting angry today," she said, resting her chin in her hand and making a large gesture, indicating she thought a proper apology was necessary.

"I got angry without realizing, because it seemed like you were bothered by choosing furniture for our home. I forgot that you've been busy with various things recently, and with work as well," she said as her boyfriend, also troubled by the day's events, offered a loving apology, quickly mending their relationship. They happily chatted for a long time into the night.

As it got very late, considering her partner had to work the next day, she ended the call. Stretching happily, she smiled; solving this major issue seemed to brighten her expression compared to when she came to work.

Humming, she fetched a cup of coffee and started her work by flipping through the patient files. Suddenly, her expression turned to shock as she glanced at the wall clock.

It was past 1:30 AM. She jumped up.

"Oh my gosh! Look at me! What am I doing!" she exclaimed, quickly grabbing a file and running down the hallway, her face turning to panic.

She had forgotten about a cancer patient in the VIP ward who needed pain medication at exactly one o'clock. The patient could be in severe pain if the medication was delayed, hence it was advised to administer it every 11 hours and 30 minutes instead of 12 to prevent any severe pain.

Thinking of the patient, who might be writhing in pain and agony, she broke into a cold sweat as she ran, glancing at the file.

Name: Dariya Miochichi

Age: 87

Diseases: small intestine cancer, kidney cancer, Wilms tumor, metastatic osteosarcoma

Special instructions: Administer pain medication every 12 hours. Administer every 11 hours 30 minutes to prevent severe pain.

Attending doctor’s note: Extra caution needed as the patient is a VIP.

The possibility of being fired just before her wedding, if it became known she had neglected a VIP patient, piled onto her fears, making Irina run without even breathing.

Despite hospital rules against nurses running, right now, that was the least of Irina’s concerns.

She burst into the VIP ward as if to break down the door.

Inside the quiet, dark, luxurious room with a large, fancy bed visible through a glass partition, she quickly turned on the light and froze seeing Dariya peacefully asleep.

Seeing her sleeping soundly without any signs of discomfort, Irina breathed heavily in relief. However, her relief was short-lived as she frowned looking at the file.

"Seriously, these doctors go crazy over VIP patients! They won’t administer pain shots to other patients no matter how much they plead, but they threaten all this pain if it’s not done early for a VIP," she muttered irritably while administering the pain medication into Dariya’s IV.

After ensuring the medication was mixing properly, she looked down at Dariya’s calm face, only to be puzzled seeing earphones in her ears.

"Listening to music while sleeping? That’s unusual. I thought she was only interested in books," Irina thought, seeing the earphones connected to an MP3 player held tightly in Dariya's hand. Shrugging her shoulders, she mumbled, "Well, as long as it's nothing serious, it’s fine."

She quietly closed the door and checked the charts again to make sure she hadn’t missed other patients.

* * *

One month later.

A meeting was held by the doctors at New York Downtown Hospital. It was a monthly occasion where they shared data or discussed unusual patient cases. The doctors, except the one presenting, comfortably held their coffee cups as they settled into their seats in the hospital’s top floor convention hall.

The meeting progressed with routine reports prepared on a few PowerPoint slides, and was uneventful until Murphy Troy, the sleepy-looking hospital director, thought, "No unusual cases this month either. Well, that’s how a hospital should be—peaceful without complications. However, it’s a bit disappointing that there are no research achievements; continuous research is what advances modern medicine."

His attention

perked up when Larry, the head of psychiatry, stepped up to the podium with a thick file.

"Good morning, doctors. I’m Larry Wilkins, head of psychiatry," he announced, waiting for the applause to settle before turning on the projector connected to a large TV behind him.

The title on the screen read, "Verification of the Effectiveness of Music Therapy?" sparking murmurs among the doctors.

"Is that even something you can verify?" "It’s still a research area, so maybe Larry has made some progress?" "It’s just music therapy. It’s hard to prove its effectiveness."

As the murmurs faded under Larry’s calm gaze, he smiled and began, "Today, I'm here to report on our research findings from the past month. I'd like to start by thanking Kay for helping us present these results."

At the mention of Kay, Murphy asked in confusion, "Kay? Are you talking about that Kay?"

"Yes, Director. That’s correct."

"Oh, you mean he provided the music needed for the therapy?"

"Partially correct. It wasn’t just provided; I had to work hard to obtain it."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's start with the first case, and you’ll understand why I had to persist."

Confidently, Larry clicked the projector remote, and the screen changed to display a patient’s photograph and information.

"Name: Elisha Glass. Age: 44. A patient suffering from severe schizophrenia, depression, and insomnia. She has been in psychiatric care for three years with no signs of improvement after surviving a shark attack while fishing with her family."

Larry clicked again, and the screen showed a video of Elisha sitting on the edge of her bed, mimicking fishing movements. She was also seen fishing from a makeshift bed in the hospital and even atop a toilet.

"Ms. Glass was a patient with a severe imbalance in serotonin, norepinephrine, and dopamine, under a heavy burden of high-level drug treatments. Here are the medications she was taking."

The screen listed her medications: Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRIs), a norepinephrine-dopamine reuptake inhibitor (NDRI), tricyclic antidepressants (TCAs), and monoamine oxidase inhibitors (MAO inhibitors).

As the prescriptions appeared, murmurs resumed among the doctors.

"Isn’t that dosage concerning for brain function? Was she really that severe?" "Yes, she was on a level of antidepressants that made everyday life impossible." "Her entire family was killed except her; it’s understandable. So unfortunate."

Larry paused, letting the murmurs die down before continuing.

"Over the past month, we conducted music therapy provided by Kay, playing it three times a day for one hour each at 10 AM, 4 PM, and 10 PM. Currently, Elisha has stopped taking antidepressants."

Murphy shot up, alarmed.

"What!!!? You stopped the antidepressants for a patient on such a serious level of medication? Are you trying to kill her?"

Younger doctors, looking concerned, also interjected.

"Indeed, Doctor. Stopping medication for a patient on that level could lead to a life-threatening shock. What was the reason for discontinuing the medication?"

"There must have been some thought behind stopping the antidepressants, maybe switching to other drugs," another suggested.

"Where on earth is there a drug that replaces antidepressants? And stopping them for a patient who hasn’t shown improvement in three years seems like malpractice to me!"

As the doctors voiced their concerns, Murphy angrily pointed at Larry.

"Larry, you need to explain this properly."

Larry smiled quietly, clicking the remote once more.

The screen now showed a bright, smiling photo of Elisha.

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